Memories of Ice

A slash of darkness opened before Whiskeyjack, startling his horse and those of the riders nearest him. Snorting, stamping, the beast came close to rearing until a low growl from Whiskeyjack calmed it. His retinue managed the same.

Korlat emerged from her warren. Her black armour glittered with blood-spray, but he saw no obvious wounds. None the less …

'Are you injured?'

She shook her head. 'A hapless Pannion warlock. Whiskeyjack, I need you to come with me. Are you done here?'

He grimaced, ever loath to leave a battle — even one drawing to a quick, satisfying conclusion. 'I'll assume it's important — enough to have you risk your warren — so the answer is yes. Do we go far?'

'To Dujek's command tent.'

'He's taken wounds?'

'No. All is well, you old worrier,' she said, cracking a smile. 'How long would you have me wait?'

'Well enough,' he growled. He turned to an officer sitting on a roan destrier nearby. 'Barack, you're in charge here.'

The young man's eyes widened. 'Sir, I'm a captain-'

'So here's your chance. Besides, I'm a sergeant — at least I would be if I was still drawing coin on the Empress's paylists. Besides again, you're the only officer present who doesn't have his or her own company to worry about.'

'But sir, I am Dujek's liaison to the Black Moranth-'

'And are they here?'

'Uh, no sir.'

'So, enough jawing and make sure things get wrapped up here, Barack.'

'Yes, sir.'

Whiskeyjack dismounted and handed the reins of his charger to an aide, then joined Korlat. He resisted an urge to draw her into his arms, and was disconcerted to see a glimmer of prescient knowledge in her eyes.

'Not in front of the troops, surely,' she murmured.

He growled. 'Lead me through, woman.'

Whiskeyjack had travelled a warren only a few times, but his memories of those fraught journeys did little to prepare him for Kurald Galain. Taking him by the hand, Korlat drew him into the ancient realm of Mother Dark, and though he could feel the sure grip of her fingers, he stepped into blindness.

No light. Gritty flagstones under his boots, the air perfectly motionless, scentless, with an ambient temperature that seemed no different from that of his skin.

He was pulled forward, his boots seeming to barely touch the floor.

A sudden streak of grey assaulted his eyes, and he heard Korlat hiss: 'We are assailed even here — the Crippled God's poison seeps deep, Whiskeyjack. This does not bode well.'

He cleared his throat. 'No doubt Anomander Rake has recognized the threat, and if so, do you know what he plans to do about it?'

'One thing at a time, dear lover. He is the Knight of Darkness, the Son. Mother Dark's own champion. Not one to shy from a confrontation.'

'I'd never have guessed,' he replied wryly. 'What's he waiting for, then?'

'We're a patient people, us Tiste Andii. The true measure of power lies in the wisdom to wait for the propitious moment. When it comes, and he judges it to be so, then Anomander Rake will respond.'

'Presumably the same holds for unleashing Moon's Spawn on the Pannion Domin.'

'Aye.'

And, somehow, Rake's managed to hide a floating fortress the size of a mountain… 'You've considerable faith in your Lord, haven't you?'

He felt her shrug through the hand clasped in his. 'There is sufficient precedent to disregard notions of faith, when it comes to my Lord. I am comforted by certainty.'

'Glad to hear it. And are you comfortable with me, Korlat?'

'Devious man. The answer to every facet of that question is yes. Would you now have me ask in kind?'

'You shouldn't have to.'

'Tiste Andii or human, when it comes to males, they're all the same. Perhaps I shall force the words from you none the less.'

'You won't have to work hard. My answer's the same as yours.'

'Which is?'

'Why, the very word you used, of course.'

He grunted at the jab in his ribs. 'Enough of that. We've arrived.'

The portal opened to painful light — the interior of Dujek's command tent, shrouded in the gloom of late afternoon. They stepped within, the warren closing silently behind them.

'If all this was just to get me alone-'

'Gods, the ego!' She gestured with her free hand and a ghostly figure took form in front of Whiskeyjack. A familiar face — that smiled.

'What a charming sight,' the apparition said, eyeing them. 'Hood knows, I can't recall the last time I had a woman.'

'Watch your tongue, Quick Ben,' Whiskeyjack growled, disengaging his hand from Korlat's. 'It's been a while, and you look terrible.'

'Why, thanks a whole lot, Commander. I'll have you know I feel even worse. But I can traverse my warrens, now, more or less shielded from the Fallen One's poison. I bring news from Capustan — do you want it or not?'

Whiskeyjack grinned. 'Go ahead.'

'The White Faces hold the city.'

'We'd guessed that much, once Twist delivered the news of your success with the Barghast, and once the Pannion army stumbled into our laps.'